Shots
by Centroides
Summary: There are all kinds of shots in the lives of the Gorillas, good shots, bad shots. Can they recover from a spate of bad shots?
1. Chapter 1

**Shots**

With most grateful assistance from Dale who helped me fill in some very big holes.

Part 1, Shot in the Heart

Chapter 1

The team was supposed to meet a sub at the coast but they had been delayed and did not arrive until fours hours later. There was nothing to do but wait for the next scheduled window. That was, until they heard the rockets being launched. Five men pictured the fear and death and destruction that was about to occurs. From there one mind turned to what he could do about it. It took less than five seconds for the second man to follow that train of thought. One look from the others and they knew, they would not be waiting idly.

They found the site and Garrison and Chief went to check it out. The Germans had selected a natural valley placing the launcher out of sight of all except aerial eyes, camouflage netting took care of that. The two men had crawled to the top of one of the rounded hills and were scanning the relatively inactive scene below.

"See that fence at the far end?" asked Garrison as he handed the glasses to Chief. "Unless they beef up the patrols at night, we should be able to approach that way. We cut through the fence, move up the far side behind those crates and we can get close enough to blow the launch pads."

"What about the house? It's occupied." Without moving his head he handed the glasses back to his leader. "Civilians."

Garrison did not waste words asking how he knew, he looked closer at the farmhouse. Of course he was right. To the side of the house was a clothes line well occupied with definitely non military issued clothes. Plans shifted taking into consideration the newest information. The blast would damage the building and any resulting fire could be fatal to the occupants. "All right. We can't wait for too long. We'll come back just after nightfall." The two men withdrew and returned to the rest of the team.

Lacking the proper explosives, timers, and fuses, they had had to improvise so their exit was going to have to be hasty. Actor and Goniff exited the way they had come in. The other three made their way up to the house. Garrison edged up to the door and knocked. Casino waited just out of sight in case help was needed. Chief, on look out, watched as the door opened, Garrison spoke to the woman then entered the house. She was in her thirties, slightly plump and wearing a floral dress with a dark kerchief around her head. Moments later Casino was beckoned and he entered. From the far side Chief had seen movement and watched helplessly as two soldiers approached the door. There was nothing he could do. The only spot to watch had been behind the chicken coop, too far to throw his blade, and he could not shoot, that would draw the German soldiers away from the blast centre and if they radioed for help, would alert neighbouring soldiers to be on the look out. They wanted to be miles away before the blast went off. The woman opened the door and the one soldier pushed his way in. The other stood guard outside the door. Something had gone wrong because a shot was fired from inside the house. The guard turned and pushed open the door and was about to enter. Chief did not even try to aim. He raised his gun and fired twice. The guard fell. Moments later Garrison run out the door and their lookout moved to intercept him. They met up with Casino and the woman who had come from around the back. The woman had looked stunned but there was no time. They ran. Once Garrison was sure they had eluded pursuit, they stopped in a barn to rest. After talking to her they escorted the woman to a nearby town where she had relatives. From there it was a dash to the pickup point and then home.

As was their habit, the men had gone to the Doves to celebrate their success and discuss what had happened. Sometimes there was bragging, others, commiseration. This time there was devastation when Casino dropped the bomb that blew a hole Chief's heart.

"Warden was telling her what was about to happen, when we heard the knock at the door." Casino was telling Actor and Goniff what had happened after they had split up. The other two had had an uneventful time and were now catching up on the rest of the story. "Garrison must a told her to get rid of who ever it was cause she opened the door. We hid in the back room. Bastard pushed his way in. He started movin' in on her, didn't take a genius to figure out what he wanted, slimy bastard. Anyway she fought him. Lady had guts that's for sure. Anyway she managed to grab his gun and it went off. Before we had a chance to do anything the front door comes crashing in. Warden went out to get her and she and I went out the window. You'd think she'd never done that before. Guess she never snuck out to meet her beau." The others had chuckled over that. He had continued on but Chief was only half listening, he had seen the rest. Besides the bartender had answered the phone and he was concerned that it might be Garrison. They were not supposed to be here. He caught the last bit of Casino's story and it lingered around the edges of his mind as he watched the bartender hang up the phone. He went back to polishing the glasses with out a glance in their direction. They were safe for now.

There was a lull in the conversation but each of the other men looked disturbed. What had he missed? He replayed the last of the conversation in his head and that was when it hit him. He couldn't breath. What had he done? Oh God, what had he done? He looked down fearing the others might see the look that he knew was on his face. He felt light headed as he tried to steady his breathing that was threatening to get out of control, his heart was pounding. He wanted to get up and run but he was rooted to the spot. He snuck a look at Actor's face and then the others. No one was looking at him. They didn't know. He took several deep breaths and forced his muscles to relax. They must never know. He had done a lot of really bad things in his life, things he was not proud of doing, but this … He had thought the worst thing was the time he had jumped a guy a girl had dumped him for. The guy never knew what hit him. He had died after hitting his head when he went down. Turned out he had hit the wrong guy. Other fights he had been in where others had been injured he had justified with the reasoning that they didn't have to fight him, they could have walked away. Even after he had flashed his blade they still wanted to fight. If they got hurt it was their own fault. But this…

He took another deep breath, swallowed hard and stood up. Somehow he made his way to the toilet and once inside he had retched until his stomach ached. Moving to the mirror he forced himself to look in it, to look at the face of such a despicable person. He could see it, what he had done written all over it. He was finished, they would kill him. And he deserved it. He turned on the tap, cupped water in his hands and sucked it into his mouth, rinsed and spit. The taste of vomit was gone from his mouth but the stain in his heart continued to corrode. That would not wash off, ever.

Before returning to his seat he picked up another drink which disappeared and was replaced by another. The more he drank the less he could see the scene Casino had described. He said nothing and made sure there was no eye contact. Best the others not know what he had done.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

An air raid siren disrupted the night and some of the patrons, including the other gorillas went outside to watch the skies. They were far enough outside London that they felt safe. Chief remained at the table. At the next table was a similarly drunk member of the Home Guard. He had tried to join the regular ranks but his eyesight had disqualified him. Right now he was feeling left out so he compensated by throwing around the weight of his position. "Hey you, why aren't you in uniform." He got no reaction which only made him try harder. "The only ones not in uniform are cowards, you're worthless". Inside Chief agreed with him. He was worthless. He did nothing except take another drink. His harasser was not finished. "I saw those bums you're with. They're a bunch of assholes too." Inside Chief snickered. If the guy only knew who they really were then he wouldn't be so quick to talk.

Seeing as he wasn't getting anywhere he changed tack. "You're probably a bunch a deserters. I aughta report you." Still no reaction so he played his big card. "Your CO's a looser who can't even .." That was as far as he got before he was attacked, punched and the two men fell to the floor. Call him worthless, that was a fact but don't nobody say anything about Garrison, his leader, the man who had treated him good.

Two hours later an angry Garrison arrived at the local jail to bail Chief out. None of the others had seen the altercation so had no explanation and Chief's alcohol clouded mind did not like Garrisons tone, so he refused to answer. The fight had started over Chief's defence of him and now here he was mad at him. Well, thought Chief, two can play that game. The fact that Garrison had no way of knowing what started it and he refused to tell, that did not seem to enter his mind. Garrison was mad at him and he returned the sentiment.

The reason for Garrison's anger was not entirely Chief's fault. Only two days back and they were on their way out again. A hung over Chief made it through the briefing and barely through the flight across the channel. The descent was hell but once on the ground he was all right or as all right as a man with a hangover could be. He knew what he had to do and as soon as he was on watch he did it. Alcohol was easy to get, either stolen from someone's wine cellar or from a pub or what ever they called then over here. He wasn't drunk but it took the edge off. He stashed the rest of the bottle for later.

The mission was pretty straight forward. They located their contact, he set up his alibi and the team went in and broke his brother out of the local jail and escorted him to a safe house. Casino thought it was a waste of their talents and a risk to their lives but it had been the price of the Resistance's help in that area. The only hitch was when a soldier had almost caught Goniff. Chief had hesitated before throwing his knife and had missed. Casino had had to tackle the soldier just as he was about to shoot their pickpocket. The rest of the mission went as planned and once they had turned the brother over to the resistance they returned to their base for the debriefing.

That part had not gone well for Chief. Garrison made a point of asking Chief about his hesitation. It was a normal part of their operation to determine what had gone wrong and to fix problems so they did not happen again but Chief saw it as Garrison was picking on him. He did not think he had hesitated and it was not his fault that the guy had moved just as he had thrown. Besides he had a headache and all this talk was making it worse. Finally it was over and they went to bed.

Chief lay on his cot. He was tired but he kept thinking. Had he hesitated back there at the farm house? Is that what had happened? Or maybe if he had hesitated …. He continued to relive the scene until he finally got up, snuck down the hall and poured himself a drink. That was all he needed, just to help him sleep.

The team was given a four day reprieve and after the stress of their past two missions they needed it. Garrison spent his time doing paperwork, filling out reports, and even took a trip into London just to see the sights and visit friends. The men enjoyed sleeping in late, relaxing in the courtyard and generally doing nothing. Chief tried staying to himself fearing the others might figure out what he had done but it gave him too much time to relive that day. He gave up and joined the others especially when they went to the pub. He had found a silver hip flask and while the others were occupied he filled it with alcohol. It was just for emergencies like if they had target practice early in the morning and he had the shakes or a head ache. He continued to visit the liquor cabinet after everyone else was asleep.


	3. Chapter 3

**Part 2 : MUGSHOT **

**Chapter 3**

Their reprieve was over and Garrison knew the call would be coming, the trip to London and the briefing about their next mission. It was the visit that was not expected.

"Left tenant?" inquired the Sargent Major. "There's a Sargent Cartier and Corporal Rushton to see you sir." He paused for a beat, then added apprehensively, "They're MP's." They both knew what that meant.

"Show them in," he said with a resigned tone. He wondered what his men could have gotten into this time.

"Lieutenant Garrison," said the Sargent after striding in, coming to a halt and saluting. "We have a warrant to arrest Mr. Luigi Confordonti," said the larger of the two big MP's. His accent, though slight said American southwest which probably accounted for his hesitation in pronouncing the foreign name.

The first thing that came to mind was that they had the wrong address until it dawned on him that name was one of Actors alias's. What had he done now? Damn, he thought he had better control over the cons, besides they had promised (apparently he could not believe them) to not do that again. Hopefully it was a mistake, not likely but he could hope. Damn. "Have a seat. I'll send for him."

"I'm sorry, I'll have to accompany you."

It irritated Garrison that the MP as much as said he did not trust him but why fight it. They walked to the room the cons shared and upon opening the door all heads swivelled in their direction. As soon as they saw who was accompanying their leader, their expressions changed from 'inquiring' to 'suspicion'.

"Actor." He tried but failed to keep the annoyance from his voice. Hopefully, if he was innocent, the con man would think he was annoyed at the MP but if not then he was annoyed at him. The MP's had no details just the warrant. Actor was removed in hand cuffs and for some reason the other cons blamed him for this indignity. It took Garrison four phone calls to find out what had happened. It seemed there was an English politician who was missing two very valuable paintings. Unfortunately he had been away from his home for some time and had not noticed the paintings were missing until now. When the police showed him mug shots he was emphatic that it was this Mr. Luigi Confordonti that the insurance company had sent to do evaluations and no, he could not remember just what day that was.

Actor, a.k.a. Mr. Luigi Confordonti, swore he had never seen or talked to the victim. Garrison could give him an alibi for the times they had been over seas but not for every moment and with the victim being so vague about dates he was out of luck.

Garrison talked to a lawyer but before he could do anything else they were sent off on a mission. His team was large for a covert team but each had such specialized skills that to lose one, especially the man who was key to gaining access to or providing a diversion so the others could access restricted areas, had a major impact. He would plan this mission around the missing man but what if he was convicted? Actor swore he was innocent but that was no guarantee that the jury would believe him. Worst case scenario, could Garrison find a replacement who would fit in the team? If the missions were not nerve wracking enough, now he had to worry about this as well.


	4. Chapter 4

**Part 3, Buckshot**

**Chapter 4.**

This time they were sent to Denmark where one of their agents had been captured and by now most likely killed. The agent had been carrying what he thought was a German code transmitter. London wanted to get it in hopes of deciphering the code. He was to bring it to the coast where a fishing boat would bring him to England. When he failed to make the rendezvous, London was notified. Garrison and his remaining felons arrived by sub. It was up to them to find out what had happened.

Chief preferred being on a mission. It was safer to steal booze from someone you would never see again. It also gave him two hours each night to do it in while he was supposed to be on watch. It had been easy up until now. Tonight his luck ran out. He had found the restaurant and got inside. Then with three bottles of booze in his hands a very protective dog had appeared out of nowhere. He had managed to escape but he had dropped all but one of the bottles and torn the leg of his pants. Back at his post he checked all around to make sure nothing had happened then set to work. He filled the flask then took several pulls at the bottle before stashing it. He checked his pants again. He would have to figure out how he would explain the tear that Garrison was sure to notice. He regretted dropping the other bottles. The one bottle was going to have to last him until tomorrow night when hopefully he could get some more. It was going to be a long twenty four hours. Have to ration it, he thought, as he took a sip.

As he feared Garrison asked about the tear. He made out like he hadn't noticed and said he must have caught it on a nail. He had never been a good liar and the officer gave him a doubting look. He pretended he didn't notice or care but he was worried. He would have to be more careful.

What they had found when they reached the agents last position in Kolding, was his house, unoccupied and ransacked. When Garrison asked his neighbours he was told that the last they saw of him he was talking to a trio of German soldiers. He had not been seen since. That was five days ago. They had to presumed he had been captured and killed, the transmitter back in enemy hands. There was nothing they could do now. It briefly crossed the officer's mind to break in to the local Nazi headquarters and see if the item was still there but realized that it had to have been moved by now. If Actor had been with them they might have gone in as an SS officer and found out something. They would make their way back to the pick up point.

All they had to do was travel about forty kilometres to the pick up point. Chief had stolen a car and was driving them in style until they had run out of gas. With no other vehicle in sight and dusk falling rapidly they had decided to spend a few hours in a farmer's barn before continuing their journey on foot.

Goniff had never liked taking the watch, Chief was better at it and besides the bloke liked it. But Garrison said go so he went. It was cold and windy so he pulled up his collar and turned his back to the worst of the weather. He spotted a low wall a few yards away and moved over to it. By squatting down in front of it he would be able to keep from freezing. He moved to the end and peered around the corner. From there he could see the back of the house. If he looked down the other leg of the wall he could see the barn. It was a good spot. He crouched back down and blew on his hands before tucking them in his arm pits. The night was cool. When they had been in the car or even walking it was not too bad but this sitting idle was getting to him. He peered around the corner then pulled back abruptly. Some one, probably the owner of the barn, was coming towards him and he had a shotgun.

The man must have seen them and crept out after them. Goniff saw the gun being raised and he took off. He knew he should lead the attacker away then circle back but it was hard not to just run to the others. He had been chased before but never by an irate gunman. The blast was expected but even so the resulting pain was a shock. There was no centralized pain just a burning all over. He ran, dodging left and right until he had to stop, gasping and weak kneed. He crouched, waiting to catch his breath, listening. There was no sound so he rose carefully and made his way back to the barn. The old man was just coming out of the barn. He looked around and then headed back towards the house. Goniff waited. Where were the others? They had obviously heard the shot and taken off, but where were they now? Slowly and carefully the English born thief began to circle the barn. A gently 'psst' got his attention and he smiled as Casino's face appeared out from behind the chicken coop.

"'es gone back to 'is 'ouse."

"All right," said Garrison, as he led them back to the barn. Once inside Goniff walked over to a bale of straw and sat. Technically he was supposed to be on guard but right now he needed to just sit for a bit. Being chased and shot at had shaken him up. He preferred to be in and out, unseen. He lay back but sat up almost immediately and turned to give the bale an accusatory glare. Seeing no reason for the sharp pains he opened his coat and peeled it off. One look at the back and he knew. With a sinking heart and pain flaring in his back he turned to Casino and said quietly, "I'm bleedin'."

Casino looked up from where he was trying to fix somewhere to sleep and looked to his team mate. The very small voice told him that this was serious as did the pale skin and huge eyes staring back at him. There was no evidence of injury so he looked down to what Goniff was holding. It was his jacket, a dark jacket so if there was blood on it he could not see it. "Turn around. Let's see." When he did Casino started to laugh.

"It's not funny, Casino," he whined.

Chief, who had gone up to the loft to watch, peered down through the opening in the floor, then lightly dropped down. He came over to investigate.

"It's all right little buddy. You caught a load of buck shot. Take your shirt off." They had to help Goniff take it off but when he did Casino said, "pants too".

"Why?" demanded Goniff indignant and frightened .

"Cause I think there may be a few that … " and he laughed again.

Goniff gingerly touched his butt then sighd. "Blimey. I aint taken 'em off. Just …" and he peered around to see as he pulled his boxers down three or four inches.

Still smirking, Casino said, "here, sit down. Chief?" Knowing what was coming the quiet one pulled out his knife, released the blade and handed it over.

"Anybody got any booze?" asked Casino. An open silver flask appeared at his elbow. After sterilizing the blade he poured some on the patients back and was rewarded by a scream as Goniff jumped in response to the pain.

"Bloody 'ell. That 'urt worse than the pellets." Casino didn't think about the pain until he actually heard it in the other man's voice.

"Sorry, Goniff. I'll try to be quick." It was a genuine apology.

"Try to be gentle. And give me a swig a that. I need it more than me back does." Chief passed the flask forward. "Thanks." He drained it and handed it back. No one saw the look on Chief's face.

It took about fifteen minutes for the safecracker/medic to remove all the pellets. He would have liked to anoint his back again but there was no more in the flask. He had to make do with putting the patient's shirt back on him with a warning to have it checked when they got back. They all made a mental note to stay clear of Goniff's back.

The doctor had checked when they got back to England and pronounced him fit, his back was healing nicely but he could not forget the pain and humiliation that would be tied to the smell of Whiskey for a long time. That smell would always remind him of laying on his stomach on a scratchy bale of hay, shirtless, boxers pulled down further than he was comfortable with, as Casino stood over him, digging holes in his back with Chief knife.

Later when they were back at their base, Chief woke up from a nightmare. He had stood in the middle of a field and fired his gun at a parade of soldiers. As one fell another appeared. They marched past him and he kept on shooting. He woke up shaking in agony. After a moment listening for any sound he got up and went to the liquor cabinet and poured himself a shot of whiskey and then another. Finally the shakes stopped and he went back to bed. It took a long time before he went to sleep and the next thing he knew it was morning.

Over breakfast Garrison asked him if he heard anything last night. He had heard someone walking around and wondered who it was. Chief reached over for his coffee mug with both hands to prevent the cup from shaking and shook his head. He hated lying to the man but then he reminded himself how he had yelled at him in the jail that night he had been arrested for defending him. He tried to tell himself the man did not deserve the truth but knew he was just protecting himself even though he did not deserve it.

Each morning he told himself that today he would put the past behind him, he would forget and not need to drink anymore. He did not need it. He could do this. Each day he failed. The guys were going to the Doves. He had to go or they would suspect. Just one drink turned into two, three, and more. Casino had a birthday, so Garrison offered each a drink at dinner, target practice and he needed a drink to ease the shakes. Always something. Sleep eluded him, his night cap helped so he continued that ritual. He thought he was safe with that until the night he heard Garrison's bedroom door open just as he finished his shot. He quickly ducked down behind a large arm chair and watched in the dark as Garrison moved silently into the room. He moved about the room, past the bottle of scotch and over to the window. Chief shifted back around the other side of the chair and held his breath. Finally he turned and left. Chief waited until he heard the bedroom door again then he hurried out of the room and back to bed. That was close but he had made it. He swore that he would not do that again.

Breakfast was a quiet time with each man lost in his thoughts. Chief was not feeling too good and the sight of food was not helping. What he really needed was a stiff drink. He poured himself a coffee and took a slice of toast.

All was quiet until Garrison spoke. "I don't want to have to put a lock on that room, Casino, stay out of the booze," he warned.

Four heads popped up, only one had a shocked guilty look and it wasn't Casino. Fortunately all eyes were on the accused who was looking at his accuser. "Whatta you talking about. I ain't been in your booze."

Again Chief was lucky. Garrison said no more, neither did Casino. The warning given, the matter was apparently dropped. Having a late night drink was too dangerous. Chief was going to have to stop. That night he tried. He spent the day working hard, chopping wood, running the obstacle course, anything he thought might tire him out and it worked. He fell asleep fairly quickly but it did not last. He was soon wide awake, sweating and shaking after another nightmare of bloodied bodies. He tried taking deep breaths then counting sheep but they turned bloody. He finally got up and went out into the hall and paced. The next thing he knew he was in front of the liquor cabinet again. He clenched his shaking hands and turned around. He couldn't. He couldn't stop and he couldn't keep doing this. What was he going to do? Frustrated, he placed his fists against his temples and pressed. What was he going to do?

,


	5. Chapter 5

**Part 4, Long Shot **

**Chapter 5.**

"Why'd ya think he did it, you know, Actor an' the paintings," asked Goniff as he draped another sock to the line that stretched across the end of the room.

Casino answered as he slapped another card down on the solitaire game he was playing. "Money."

"'E coulda let us in on it. I thought we agreed to share what we nicked." Another card slapped and the fire popped. "Wonder 'oo 'e fenced it with?" His laundry hung, Goniff came and sat across the table from the card shark.

"Why, you know someone?" Suddenly Casino looked up and exclaimed, "Why am I asking, of course you do." Goniff smiled.

Chief, who had been sitting on the window ledge came over and sat as well. "Maybe he's bein' framed," and he looked pointedly at Goniff. The other two stopped and stared at him.

"It's a long shot but let's find out."

"But what if 'es guilty."

"Then we keep or mouths shut," said Casino with a grin. They casually wandered down to Garrison's office and seeing it empty they moved in and with three phone calls they set the ball in motion.

Two days later Garrison entered the room the cons shared. "All right, what are you guys up to?" He looked from one to the other waiting. They looked back. "I just got a phone call. All that was said was," and he looked to the paper in his hand, "Towser knows who's got the goods." He stood waiting, glaring at each man.

Goniff smiled and said, "Musta been a wrong number, Warden. We don't know a Towser," and he looked to his team mates, "do we mates?" Casino looked puzzled and shook his head slowly. Chief just shrugged.

Unable to counter, but still not convinced he turned and left. Security would have to be tightened.

Casino held up his hands then tip toed to the door, opened it and seeing the hall empty, he returned to the others. "OK. So Goniff, who's Towser?"

"'E's the best. Knows all the biggest buyers and sellers. Used to work with Sotheby's."

"Call'm."

"Can't. 'E don't deal on the phone. Gotta be in person."

"OK, where?"

"London. Got 'imself a real nice place."

"But you know where. OK, we gotta get you there." He paused to think, to plan out the logistics, steal a jeep or thumb to the train station … He walked several paces turned and walked back. "There's no way we can get there and back without bein' missed. We need a reason for us to go to London."

"Might be easier if just Goniff went," suggested Chief. "Warden won't be so suspicious. If he doesn't like the idea of him goin' alone, we offer to go too."

"Yeah", he agreed emphatically. "Now we need a reason. "

"I can't go," said the Englishman sadly.

"What? Why not?"

"I uh," waffled Goniff, "I owe 'im."

"How much?"

"Fifty."

"Shit. OK, I'll have to go. Now we need a reason for the Warden."

"What about a present for your Ma. It's getting close to her sixtieth birthday isn't it?"

"She's not that" he started to object then reconsidered, "well, close enough. Yeah, that'll work." He turned to head for the door.

"There's one more thing."

That brought Casino up short. "What?"

"'E expects a gift, somethin' to 'elp 'is memory, you know what I mean?" suggested Goniff meekly. Casino glared. "'E's real partial to Cognac."

"Great, where we supposed to get that? Hey," and his face brightened, "Actor got any in his secret stash?"

Garrison replaced the receiver back on the hook and sighed in frustration. What was he going to do about his missing team member. Was he guilty? He had sounded very sincere when he had told Garrison that he was innocent but then he was a con man. The lawyer he had just spoken to did not sound very confident. He used words like "convicted felon" and "fine upstanding citizen" and "a family that goes back to the court of King James." Things did not look good for Actor.

A conviction for Actor would impacted not only personally but professionally as well. Though he never had to remind himself that the man was a con man, he had come to rely on him for aspects of the missions involving a con. He had a quick mind and was also a calming influence on the others. Casino and Goniff were prone to impulses when not actively working. On a mission they could be counted on to think, react and participate but when left to their own devises they often put that energy into inappropriate actions. Right now was one of them. That phone message was a signal, but of what? What were they up to?

He headed to the kitchen to get a coffee when almost as if he was summoned Casino appeared. "Hey Warden. I need a pass to go to London for a couple a hours. My Ma's sixtieth birthday is coming an' I thought it be real nice, seein' as I can't be there in person .." He paused hopefully just in case his boss wanted to say something, then seeing no response he continued. "Well I thought maybe I could go get her a gift, you know, for her birthday."

"You were down to the village last night."

"Yeah, they got nice stuff there but my Ma, she's, well, I wanted something special. A couple a months ago I saw this store that had these little figurines. Thought I might getter one. But I gotta get it soon so I can get it in the mail. All I'd need is, say, six hours with travel time. I'll come right back."

"Right there and right back. No stopping for a drink, a chat or a game. Got it?"

"Thanks Warden."

That was the easy part. Casino was driven to the train station by the Sargent Major. The trip to London was uneventful as was the purchase of the bottle of alcohol. The three had pooled their cash and fortunately had just enough to buy the ticket and the bottle. There was nothing left for a cab so he had to walk. Goniff had given him directions that were not too hard to follow though the short cut took him through an area that had seen better days.

As he approached an alley four men stepped out blocking his way. It was obvious what they wanted and even with the odds in their favour Casino was not one to back down though he wished he had Chief with him. If the thugs hoped for an easy victory they were disappointed. By the time the fight was over, one thug was cradling his arm, another's nose was broken, someone's tooth was in a bloody glob of blood on the sidewalk and the fourth was not sure what day it was.

Casino watched them leave. He had survived, thanks to his Army training, but it was obvious he had been brawling, clothes askew, button missing on his shirt, but the worst was the smell. The bottle of Cognac had been broken and he was soaked in it. He swore but there was no help for that. He tried to tidy his clothes, brushed off his pants and tucked in his shirt in. He had to go on.

The butler almost closed the door in his face but Casino had his foot in the door. "I'm here to see Towser, now." He used his best Garrison voice. The door was opened and he entered. What felt like a half an hour later he was ushered into a back room to wait. Even from the outside of the house he knew he was in over his head. It was even grander than the place they were billeted. The inside was beautiful. He looked down at his own clothes, rumpled, scuffed. No wonder the butler tried to shut him out. Eventually an older balding heavyset man entered. The well dressed man glared at Casino obviously annoyed at being disturbed by an obvious vagrant. "I was told you know what happened to some paintings that went missing."

"Who are you that you dare to question me?"

"Who I am doesn't matter. I just want to know about the paintings."

"What paintings?" The tone of his rich cultured voice matched the look of disgust on his face.

"A Monet and a Constable. Rich guy, named Vickers, claimed they were stolen. Word is you know what happen to 'em."

"And how would I know anything about stolen painting?"

"Don't bullshit me. The word went out and you're it. Just tell me where they are or who took 'em and I'll be on my way."

The English gentleman looked pointedly at Casino and said with a bored air, "I don't remember."

Casino quietly seethed. He did not want to admit that he had been bested in a fight even if they had outnumbered him. "How about a little wager, say, poker."

"I put up information and what do you offer if I win?"

Casino was grasping at straws. This was not going well at all. "Ah, this watch. I got it in Germany." He undid the strap to show his host. "Seventeen jewels, Swiss movement, eighteen carat gold case." Casino was loath to part with it. He had taken it from a dead Nazi on one of their missions.

"I already have several watches. Let me see." He took the offered timepiece and moved over to a small table. Taking a Loupe from the drawer he examined the watch. He snorted and said as he handed it back, "What ever you paid for this was too much."

He knew what was coming. "Was a gift. So whadda ya say?"

"Not that your watch is worth it but it will amuse me to put you in your place. Come this way." He was led further into the house to a room where a card table was set up. Obviously the man played regularly. "Let us make it a little more interesting. Sit." He left and the butler entered the room carrying a tray and four glasses each filled with Cognac. He placed them around the table then sat beside Casino.

"Have you played against Lord Stanley before? Then I must warn you that it is not wise to defeat him. He does not take kindly to anyone who tries. The last man who did is, unfortunately, no longer with us," he added sadly.

Another man entered the room and sat. From his build, Casino assumed he was a bodyguard. "He know not to beat the boss?" At the butler's nod the newest addition turned to Casino. "If you want to leave in one piece, make it look good but don't …" He stopped as footsteps approached and their host came in and sat down.

By this time Casino was loosing his confidence. He looked like a second rate tradesman against these well dress men. He was now being warned to loose if he valued his life but he had to win in order to get the information that would clear Actor. There was a chance they were bluffing. This was poker. But what if they weren't. Getting killed would not help Actor. If he lost he would at least walk out alive, alive to try again. Maybe he could win and then grab the butler as a hostage. Once outside he could bargain for the information. He watched the bodyguard. He was packing heat. Damn.

Lord Stanley, a.k.a. Towser, expertly shuffled and dealt the cards. In spite of his worries, Casino felt the same thrill he always felt as he watched the cards slide towards him, the feel of them in his hands, the anticipation as each was revealed as he fanned them in his hand. Any other time he would have been expressionlessly pleased but not today, not here. This was a good hand, one he could win with. Could he lose with it? Should he lose? He needed to win to get the information but if what the butler said was true then his win could turn into defeat. He had no choice, he could not help Actor if he was dead.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6.**

Discarding his two best cards he received two more. That was a better hand to lose with. He almost cried when he did it but he was playing for his life. For the second round all he had was his return train ticket. He tossed it on the table. There were sniggers but no objections. He tipped up his glass and drank. The cognac did not go down well.

All the cards were on the table. Casino couldn't believe it, the butler had won and Towser didn't care. He had been conned. Damn. He wanted to jump up and insist the butler cheated but then so did he. He stood and tossed the last of the Cognac back and stepped back.

"Thank you for the cheap watch, " said Towser as he picked it up and handed it to the butler with a warning. "Be careful of the strap, it is flimsy."

Casino looked at Towser. He had been set up and he had fallen for it. His host read his mind and said, "A deal is a deal. Good bye, Mr. Casino." The butler moved toward the door as he prepared to show him out. He was led to the back door. The butler opened it and then firmly closed it behind him as he stepped on to the porch. Standing there like a common peddler or beggar he fumed. He had been conned, hustled, like a common two bit hood. He slammed his palm against the porch support. Damn. He continued to fumed as he walked, he had a train to catch. He raised his hand to see how much time he had and was surprised and then angry. He had lost his watch and his ticket. A long string of curses directed at Towser, Actor, Goniff, Towser's parents etc. welled up and were given voice. It was several blocks later by the time he had calmed down and turning to face the meager traffic, he stuck out his thumb. Now he was going to have to explain to the others how he had lost the bottle to muggers and then been swindled out of his watch and train ticket and he had not got the information he had gone for. The worst was he had been conned, not beaten at cards. He had fallen for a con. The man who swindled others had been swindled himself and he had fallen for it. If this had happened in his old neighbourhood, he never would have lived it down. To top it all off, he smelled like that fancy booze. One whiff of him and he'd never get a ride. Damn.

He had walked for about five minutes when he noticed the big black car hanging back. He watched as he walked backward ever hopeful for a ride. The car came closer pulling up beside him. The darkened window of the passenger side opened. Inside Casino could see Towser as he leaned forward. "I truly enjoyed our little wager and wish I had more time to continue but I am a busy man. I am also a fair man. The watch, the butler keeps, he won it fair and square." That burned Casino but he said nothing. "The man your friend is accused of stealing from is heavily in debt, or was until he paid with a pair of paintings from his collection. And no, Mr. Casino, I will not talk to the police. That is your problem." He picked something from the seat beside him and passed it out the window. "And lastly, your ticket. It is of no use to me. Good bye Mr. Casino." The window rolled up and the car moved away. Well that was a little better. He would have to hurry, The station was close but with out his watch he had no idea how much time he had.

Finally he made it back home. Garrison met him at the door and glared. Casino had rehearsed the whole train ride so he knew what to say, besides most of it was true. "I got the damn figurine and a bottle of Booze for his lordship when we get him cleared and I got mugged. Thugs broke the bottle and the figurine. Lousy Limey thieves." He stormed up to his room to get cleaned up and changed.

The following morning Garrison finished drying his back then wrapped the towel around his hips. Turning to the mirror he pulled out his shaving kit. No need to wipe the mist from the glass this time, the cranky old water heater refused to get the water hot enough for that. No sense complaining, maintenance for the old place was low priority. As he soaped up his brush he wondered about his missing team member. He would go see him, try to cheer him up with his team mates latest antics. Truthfully, he missed talking over events with the man. His insight had been invaluable. By this time he had finished shaving so he rinse and put away his things. Dressing quickly he made his way to the kitchen for a quick coffee.

Grabbing a set of keys he was about to leave when Casino sauntered in. "So you hear from Actor?" Garrison shook his head. "You think he did it?" asked Casino.

"They have a witness, the victim ID'd his mugshot."

"That's not a witness," said Casino with disgust. "That's an accusation. Guy didn't see him do it. We, on the other hand," he smiled, " have a witness to what happened to the painting," said Casino. Garrison said nothing, just waited. "Unfortunately the witness, well, …"

"He needs to be convinced," interrupted Garrison grimly.

"Something like that, only in this case, the victim needs to be conned."

"Casino," warned the Officer.

"No, Warden," he started hotly. "The creep lied. He wasn't robbed. He used the painting to pay off a gambling debt then fingered Actor. The cops will believe him cause he's rich, or was. I'm not gonna let him get away with it. Actor's too important to this team. If he's gonna lie then it's OK for us to lie. Sides, it's what we do best." The last line was added quietly.

"And you know this for sure?"

"Yeah."

"That's where you were yesterday." It was not a question but a statement.

"Yeah. Knew you wouldn't let me go if I told you."

"Thank you for your trust, Casino."

"Would you have let me go if I told you?" asked the safecracker sceptically.

"No." Garrison paused for effect then asked. "Why not give your information to the police."

"Cause we got no proof. Can't tell'm where we got the scoop. All we can do is con the lousy creep who fingered Actor."

Goniff saw the doubtful look and jumped in. "'e knows what 'e done. We just go in and let 'im know we know too and tell 'im we'll let the coppers know."

Garrison looked from face to face. What they were planning was illegal but all legal avenues were congested. "If you were to do this, when?"

"We'd need to go to London, for a couple of hours." Seeing his boss softening he added the kicker. "And we'd need one of those recording devises. Get him on tape."

He didn't like it. It could backfire. He could lose them all. Hell, he could lose his command. "Tell me what happened, who took the painting and where is it now."

Casino told him what they had found out. "So if he is in financial trouble then it shouldn't be too hard for the police to check that out."

"That is, if they believe you enough to check." Casino had no faith in the law.

"Let me take this to the police and see what they can find," said Garrison as he moved toward the door.

"Yeah, we'll come with you. Wait outside while your talking to them." Garrison understood but let it pass.

The men watched their leader enter the station before flagging a taxi. They were of to see the robbery victim, only this time he was going to be their victim. Chief and Goniff hung back out of sight as Casino knocked at the door. When no one answered he knocked again harder. Finally the man in question opened the door a crack. "Mr. Vickers? My name is Johnson, Don Johnson. I have a little problem and I was told you could help."

"What kind of problem?" He was definitely suspicious.

"Can I come in? I don't want to discuss it out here." Casino saw the door start to close and he stuck his foot in the door. "Please, I'm desperate." Mr. Vickers glared at him so he repeated his plea quietly. "Please." This time it worked and the door opened. Once inside he looked around. It was a very fancy house, old but from the looks, missing some key furnishings. What was left was thread bare. Wealth fallen on hard times.

"Mr. Vickers, I was in Belgium a few days ago and happened to come into possession of a small painting. I need to get rid of it fast. I'm leaving for the States and I can't take it with me. Word is you know someone who will fence it, no questions. I need you to act as go between.

"You are mistaken. How would I know anyone like that?" he said with disgust.

"Come on, Vickers. I read the papers. A couple a paints stolen by a con man? I checked him out. He works alone, that's not his style. You pawned them. I don't care why, not my problem. I just need you to help me unload mine. I know people in the States but not here.

"You are mistaken. Mine were stolen and he had access."

Seeing as this was not working he changed tact. "The guy you accused, he has an alibi."

Possibly sensing the con, Mr Vickers decided to end it. "You are a liar. Get out of my home or I will call the police."

"I'll leave but think about this. When she comes forward and tells the cops that the two of them have been together, she'll blow your story outta the water. He'll be cleared and the cops will be looking at you. You help me and I'll make sure she forgets her gigolo." It almost pleased Casino to use that word.

Mr. Vickers stood considering his offer. "All right. Just give me the painting, but for heavens sake, don't bring it here. I will meet you, how big is this painting?"

"It's a miniature." Casino indicated the size with his hands.

"I will pick it up at the train station. You be there with the package at 9:30 sharp. It may take a few days for the transaction so meet me back there on Friday at the same time. No police. And if this woman comes forward then I will tell the police you stole the miniature."

"Yeah. I'll be there. Now this guy you deal with, he'll give me a good price, won't he?" asked Casino warily. "I assume he's the guy who fenced those two paintings you said were stolen so you know him enough to trust him?"

"Yes. He is discrete and though his cut is high he is trustworthy."

"Good. Thanks Mr. Vickers. I appreciate all you've done. You know I gotta hand it to you. Pawn it, get the money, claim it stolen and collect the insurance. I like the way you think." Casino smiled a 'fox in the henhouse' smile.

The tape was turned over to the police. They were suspicious but it was enough to get them digging into bank records. A confrontation with the English victim, the police, and a taped conversation saw the charges against Actor withdrawn. He was a free man once again but the haunted look remained in his eyes for quite some time.

To celebrate his release the five men went to The Doves. They spent a quiet time, talking, drinking and playing cards with a few of the locals. After two hours Garrison called it a night. They filed up the stairs with Actor bringing up the rear. As he passed the bar the man behind the counter told him he was glad he was back. As he nodded his thanks Actor noticed the man's shirt cuffs. They were familiar. "Where did you get your cufflinks?"

"These?" as he turned his wrist to look at them. "I traded a bottle of whiskey for 'em. One of your blokes."

Actor had not had time to notice them missing. Goniff had a habit of picking up things, a habit he was very good at, but trading for booze? That did not seem right. Casino, maybe, he liked to drink. He would have to watch but other than that he put it out of his mind.

The next day's weather was unseasonably warm and Casino brought out a soccer ball Goniff had found. The two started kicking it around. One of the off duty guards joined in, then Actor. Before long they had a impromptu game going and Chief was drafted. There was a lot of good natured kidding and arguing but eventually they burned all their energy and the game ended with threats of a rematch. Chief had tired first and gone to sit on the steps. The others soon followed. As the sergeant of the guard who had first joined then approached he looked at Chief and said, "You look terrible. If I didn't know better I'd say you look like you've been on a bender." Chief looked around, panic stricken. Actor had paused and was looking at him with a slight frown. Casino was also giving him a second look. They knew! He had to cover, somehow.

"Naw, I just ain't been feelin' good lately. Som'um I ate I guess." The others came over and sat. The talk turned to other things but Chief was worried. He still had a bottle stashed but it was getting harder to get to and keep filled.


	7. Chapter 7

**Part 5, Head Shot**

**Chapter 7.**

Two days later they were gone again. Once on the ground and in position he set out to restock. He had some luck with a wine cellar in an abandoned house. To celebrate he drank a little more than usual but he deserved it. Come morning he would have a terrible headache but as long as he could get a drink before they left he would be all right. It was not to be.

They were driven from their safe house by a roving patrol. Not wanting to alert the enemy they grabbed their gear and ran. Chief doubled back to get his stash but he was too slow and he was spotted before he could reach it. Shots were fired and the chase was on. Garrison decided to make a stand where two hillocks would force the enemy to converge. The ambush set, they slid to the ground and waited. Within minutes the first soldier appeared. Garrison waited until a second appeared and then opened fire. The other soldiers hung back hoping to get a clear shot. Garrison turned to Chief who was two feet away and told him to cover him. Chief was in a bad way. His hands were shaking and he knew he was going to be sick. He squeezed off two shots before his vision blurred and his stomach heaved. He had not eaten in at least twelve hour so all he brought up was bile. He spat trying to clear the taste from his mouth then looked up just in time to see the man who was counting on him for cover, fall. He aimed and fired at the blur in the brush but he must have missed because it retreated after firing a shot in his direction. Carefully he got his feet under him and moved in the fallen man's direction. He had to get to him. By the time he worked his way there the firing had stopped and Actor rushed in, pushing Chief aside. Garrison was sprawled face down with a puddle of blood by his head. Fearing for his life Chief tried to get closer but Casino grabbed his arm and pulled him towards himself. He was livid.

"What the Hell were you doing? You were supposed to cover him. That Kraut stood right up and nailed him and you did nothing." With that he drew back his fist and landed one on Chief's face. Stunned by the sight of his leaders prone body and the news that he could have prevented it left him wide open and unable or unwilling to respond. He was knocked backwards and fell on his back. He did not even try to defend himself from further attack. When nothing further happened he got up. The others had turned their leader over and Casino was holding his head as Actor wrapped a field dressing over the wound. Goniff was watching ready to assist if needed. As Chief approached the second story man turned and gave him a searching look as if to say 'how could you?' before turning back to his priority.

Chief stood outside the circle of activity. He was a failure. He had let his leader, the only man to treat him like a person, get injured and maybe killed. He took a step back. He didn't even deserve to be in the same area as these men.

He was nothing but a murdering drunken Indian. A drunk. The one thing he swore he would never be. He wiped the blood from his nose and took another step back as if he could step back from the truth.

They didn't need him. They were better off without him. Garrison had counted on him and he had failed him and now he was probably going to die. He took another step back. If he were gone then they wouldn't count on him and then they'd be safe. He took another step back.

Next time it might be him that got shot and the guys would put themselves in danger just to help him. He could get them all killed. He took another step back.

He watched as Actor and Casino manoeuvred the injured man between them, lifted him and with one of his arms over their shoulders, began to move away. He just stood there watching, unable to move as they got farther and farther away until they had disappeared. He needed a drink but his flask was empty. He knelt and retched but his stomach was as empty as his soul.

The rest of the team was gone, disappeared through the woods. They would be all right. They would get the Warden to safety. They would look after him, not like he did. They would cover him and protect him. It was him that had failed. He was the failure. Failures were best gotten rid of. That's what he had been told. The words had been seared into his soul.

Meanwhile Actor, Casino and Goniff carried their inert leader to a safe place. He began regaining consciousness as Actor checked the bandage. The bullet had grazed his head at the hairline above his left eye. The cut was not deep but being a head wound it bled liberally. The bandage was soaked. Actor applied another using more pressure. As expected Garrison tried to get up and take charge. It took all three of his men to convince him to wait.

The moment the others had been dreading arrived all too soon. "Chief on watch?"

No one spoke until Garrison, having tried to catch an eye, any eye, demanded, "Out with it."

The cons exchanged looks until finally Casino blurted it out. "The traitor split."

"What?" demanded the injured man. Maybe he had misunderstood. "What do you mean he split?"

"When you were hit, we managed to finish off the patrol and bring you here to tend to your head," said Actor. As if reminded Garrison gingerly touched the field dressing. "He was there when we picked you up but by the time we got you here, he was gone." Maybe if he didn't hurt so much their leader would have picked up the cues that Actor was leaving something out. Maybe he would have read the look of disgust on Casino's face. As it was he missed it all and went off in a different direction.

"Why didn't you keep an eye on him, make sure he was with you?"

Actor's quick mind spotted the defence. "We were too concerned about your welfare to worry about Chief."

"It doesn't take all of you to do that," he countered.

"Yes it does", said the con man petulantly. "You are our first priority."

He had to admit they had him there, he held their paroles, but he was not giving in. "One of you should have at least noticed he was missing. What if he was hurt?"

"He wasn't. We all saw 'm," snarled Casino, his tone alone expressing the message no one wanted to deliver.

"You also know he won't admit to being hurt either." They, at least, had the decency to look abashed. That was true. They began to doubt.

"Damn Indian better a been hurt," said Casino as he stared at his leader. No one spoke, no one else wanted to explain. Their safe cracker had never been one to beat around the bush or keep what needed to be said to himself so when no one else put it into words, he did. "He was supposed to be covering you. He didn't. Damn redskin lay there and let you get shot."

The damning words hung there like a demon seed waiting for an open soul to land in, to sprout into hatred and condemnation. Garrison knew this well. He had been the victim of this kind of smear before. It had cost him dearly but he had survived thanks to a few loyal friends. He wanted to refute the claim but had no ammunition. "I want to hear his side before any decision is made," he said clearly before adding with steel in his voice, "and so do you." The matter was laid to rest, at least for now. "We go back and find him."

"Warden, you need stitches before you go anywhere."

"No, we can't .." Garrison started to say as he got up but the blood loss was acute enough that as he rose his blood pressure fell and he almost blacked out. Actor and Casino rushed in and prevented a fall. Argument settled, they headed to an aid station.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8.**

Meanwhile, Chief needed a drink. He set off in search of the only thing that would help him through the pain. By the time he reached a town, he had the shakes real bad and a headache that made it hard to see straight. He wanted to die and get a drink, preferably in that order. Having no money he had to wait until the public house closed before he could break in, down a pint and then grab a few bottles before stealing off into the night. The weather was cold but the alcohol kept the chill off. He stayed in his rotting pile of hay until the last bottle was empty before moving on. The next night he was searching for more wine. The area had been under artillery fire the day before so there was not much standing. He finally found what used to be a cafe. He picked his way to the back but an explosion next door had blown the wall in, smashing all the bottles but one, a half empty bottle of wine. It would have to do. He picked it up and made his way towards the front and came face to face with the serious end of a rifle being held by an equally serious soldier of an Allied forward patrol.

"Halt. Hands up." The sergeant demanded with a twitch of his rifle. Chief complied.

The soldier then asked him something else that his brain could not figure out. He should have made a run for it and let him shoot him but out of stupidity he had answered, "I'm an American. I'm with Special Forces. I got separated from my unit." His mind listened as his mouth fumbled over the words that would save him from the fate he deserved.

The soldiers paused puzzling over his reply. "Prove it."

Now it was Chief's turn to be at a loss. How was he to do that. "You'll have to take me back with you. My CO can verify who I am."

"Or I could just shoot you here an' be done with you."

"Yeah, you could." Part of him wanted to tell the soldier to go ahead. It would save everybody a lot of trouble if he did.

"You a deserter, cause that's what this looks like?"

"We're supposed to shoot looters too," added the second in command.

Chief realized that he was holding a bottle in his hand. He shrugged. "I was thirsty."

"My Pa was a cop and he would say that we have to confiscate the evidence no matter what we decide to do. That's the law," said the second.

"Yeah, you're right." Then nodding in Chief's direction the patrol leader said, "Hand it over." The second moved closer to take the evidence. "And seeing as you're the designated cop in this detail, see if he's got any weapons on him. Sure wouldn't want him to shoot us." The second took the bottle, handed it to his sergeant then checked their suspect. It was an amateur effort so he missed the knives. Chief lowered his hands and they moved on.

Eventually they made their way back to their lines where Chief was taken to the commander. "Colonel, we found this guy in town, claims to be one of ours. No tags. Says he's with Special Forces."

Colonel Braden watched as the man was brought before him. He did not like surprises or mysteries but when they appeared he dealt with them in a methodical and practical way. First order of business was to immobilize the spy, which was what he must be. Civilians did not claim to be military and deserters claimed to be civilians. Mentally reviewing their present set up, a commandeered farmhouse, he remembered the hen house. It was small and sturdy with just one entrance. The prisoner could be housed there. Next, who was he. A few pointed questions got him enough details to get the search started. Further questioning might bring forth more but he was a busy man. As he had questioned him he had watched. He was sure his initial suspicion was correct. The man was nervous, sweating and if he wasn't mistaken he was shaking. Nervous?, or lying? Potentially dangerous. He ordered his aide to pass the information he had learned on to the radio operator for confirmation and orders. As his aide moved to escort the prisoner away he had a second thought. "Run him by the medic, just in case." He knew about some of the diseases that could be picked up by soldiers. Best be safe.

Chief was shaking but not because of fear but because he was hurting. The soldiers had taken the booze and split it amoung themselves. He needed a drink real bad. He curled his fingers, clenching them to stop the shakes and could feel the sweat gathering there. What was he going to do? Maybe if he made a break for it they would shoot him and then it would be over. But he didn't. He stood there and answered the questions as best he could. The voices from his past taunted him, calling him 'coward', 'looser' and knew he had failed even yet again. Killer, murderer, failure, drunk, coward. The condemnation just continued to build.

Then when the Colonel said that they would have to see what his CO had to say, the reality hit him and hit him hard. Garrison. Oh Shit. What was he going to do? What was Garrison going to say? What was he going to do? What if he had died and now they had him, would he be charged with murder, cause that's what he had done. He had failed to protect the man who had done so much for him. He flashed back to the scene where Garrison was laying face down in the dirt, blood pooling by his head.

His fumbling thoughts were interrupted by a nudge on his arm as the aide urged him out the door. The walked in silence toward the hen house.

"Sorry about the accommodations," started the aide, "but under the circumstances …." His voice trailed off as he opened the door.

Chief stepped inside. It was dark and smelled of just what you would expect from a chicken coop. He walked to the centre and stood. A line Actor had used came to him. How the mighty have fallen, but he was not mighty. He had never been mighty. He had been shit, then he chuckled wryly as it came to him. That was exactly were he was right now. He started in shit, got himself out and now, Bull shit, yeah more shit, he hadn't got himself out. He was pulled out by the man he had murdered. He sank to the floor. What kind of bastard kills the man who rescued him? One who deserves to die, that's who. And he deserved what ever happened to him. If he could only die, right now. He pictured his

possible fate. What if Garrison walked in right now? His heart skipped a beat at the thought. He had never been afraid of the man before, a bit in awe, a wished to emulate him but never fear, well except that time when Wheeler challenged him. The man was tough and fast, but he was fair. Now he was afraid. He had screwed up real bad and Garrison had paid. The worst was there was no way to make it up to him. If Garrison walked in right now, NO, **when** Garrison walked in, because sooner or later he was going to show up, and then …. Damn he needed a drink. He wrapped his arms around himself, holding tight, feeling the tremors that rippled through his body.

Suddenly the coop exploded with light blinding the occupant as the door creaked open. "Hey you. Come on out here."

Chief squinted in the general direction, then stumbled out. By squinting and shading his eyes he was able to make out the soldier who led him across the yard and into the barn. By the time he entered the building he could see again. He looked around quickly half afraid Garrison would be there. He wasn't so Chief relaxed a bit. Instead it was a make-shift hospital. The medic proceeded to check him over. His first words were ominous, "You look like shit."

Chief grunted. He was in no mood to talk but then thought better. "I could do with a drink." His voice was strained and hoarse. He sounded like shit too.

"Don't we all," was all he said in reply. When he finished he said, "Here, take these."

"What are they?"

"For your headache." With that he turned away and his escort stepped into view. He was returned to his prison. Once inside he wandered about. It was a small building with half a dozen nesting boxes, each with straw in it. Out of habit he checked, no eggs, then turned to survey the rest of the room. The floor was packed sawdust, straw and shit. He knew it would take too long to dig his way out using his knives. The walls were vertical boards that had originally been placed tight together but had shrunk over the years. Sunlight slipped through the cracks, drawing bars of sunlight across the floor.

"Gotta be the worst stinkin' jail I ever bin in. I need a drink." He buried his

face in his hands for a moment before dropping them and yelling, "Hey Screw, I need a drink." There was no answer, he expected none. He tried sitting but could not make himself stay for longer than a few minutes. He had even tried rocking but that was no good. He wanted out, out so he could get to his stash and get another drink. He moved over to the door and peered out through the cracks. Yes the guard was still there. "Damn," he muttered to himself. His heart began to beat faster. He couldn't stay here, he had to go. He paced the short length then turned his back to the wall and leaned against it. His anxiety was getting worse. He raised one foot then kicked back against the wall as he growled, "Bastards."

He shoved away from the wall and began to pace again. When he turned back he saw that the board he had kicked had moved. With a quick look to the door he moved in closer to the board. He kicked his boot heel into the packed dirt about four inches from the wall then placed the toe of his boot against the board and pressed. At first there was nothing so he pressed harder. The rusty nails protested with a squeak that Chief tried to cover with a cough. He paused to check his progress. It was working. He continued to push until the board was far enough. He set to work on the next one. It would not budge so he tried the one on the other side. It did not take long to open a space big enough for him to wriggle out. Once free he began to move away. Unfortunately the trees that could hide his escape were on the other side of the hen house where the guard

would see him. His only chance was if he made it across the garden and over the low stone wall. From there they would not see him. He got twenty feet from the building when he was spotted. He tried running but slipped on the rotting vegetation and fell. A rifle barrel in his face insured his quiet return. The rifle at his back ensured his co operation until someone grabbed his wrists and pulled them behind him. He would not be cuffed that easily. He swung around fists clenched and met soft resistance. The restraining hands vanished and he lunged away. Three strides and he was tackled and dropped to the packed earth in the yard. Landing had knocked the wind out of him momentarily stopping him but the gun barrel that appeared at his temple completed his submission. He had been taken to the kitchen and directed to the open trap door in the floor. The steps were steep but he managed to make it all the way down with out falling or hitting his head. The cellar, though not deep enough to stand up in, was at least dry. He quickly looked around and was rewarded with the sight of three wine bottles off in the corner. Not caring that the trap door was being lowered he moved over to get the bottles. He did not care what happened, he had to get a drink. The light disappeared completely as he grabbed two of the bottles, then the third. A strangled cry filled the room as he realized they were empty. Noooo.

"Alright, Keep your shirt on." The door was lifted a few inches for a minute then a rolled up rug was stuffed under the edge and the door was lowered again. The rug prevented the door from closing completely. He had a bit of light that he did not care about and he had no booze.

Damn. What was he going to do? He wanted to pace to try to burn off some of the raging frustration that was driving him but he could not even stand up straight. He sat curling and uncurling his fists. His knives had been taken when they brought him back so he could not even practice that. Finally he sat hunched over, fists clenched between his thighs, thighs that were clenched together to stop the trembling. He lowered his head down and he began to rock back and forth.

Meanwhile up above, a voice called out. "Colonel," and he snapped off a salute then stood waiting.

"Come in. What is it?" he replied as he looked up, "Lieutenant," he added when he saw the rank. He was a busy man with a lot on his mind right now. Their offensive was meeting heavy resistance, resistance he was told would be minimal. He had lost too many men and had just received word one hour ago that there would be no replacements for four days. Then there was the problem of the spy or who ever he was. Should have shot him himself. Still holding the report from intelligence he was trying to decipher he glared at the interrupter.

"Lieutenant Garrison reporting, Sir. I've come to get one of my men. I was told he was here." He handed his papers to the Commander who scanned them then placed them on the edge of the kitchen table he had spread his maps out on.

Down below, the words did not register at first. There had been lots of mumbling and foot steps over his head but none of it mattered. None of it would ease the pain he was in. That was until he heard the name of the latest arrival. His head snapped up and his breathing quickened.

"I'm sorry Lieutenant, I can't release him."

"Sir?" That was not the answer he had expected.

"Your man was confined under guard, as per orders. He attempted to escape, attacking his guard, breaking his nose and a finger. He is back under guard where he will stay until he can be transferred back to face formal charges.

From the looks of this," and he indicated the papers Garrison had brought, "we can add desertion and being out of uniform to that list. You can write this one off."

Garrison was shocked but not terribly surprised. He knew what Chief was capable of, he knew his record and his temper, but why had he fought them here. Why would he try to escape when he had to know he would come and get him? Unless he really had skipped. He knew that was a possibility for all of them but Chief was not the one he expected to do it. He would have to find that out later. Right now he needed to talk to him, find out for sure.

"Permission to speak freely, Sir?"

"Go ahead but make it fast."

"Sir, the men of Special Forces are not regular Army. They are trained to carry out their mission and then return to base. The man you have in custody got separated from the team and left behind. We were about to go back to find him when word came that he was here. He is doing exactly as he was trained to do, return to base."

"I don't care what branch of the Service he's in, or what training he had. As a soldier in this man's army, he is to obey orders from a superior officer and in case you have forgotten, Lieutenant, a Colonel's orders to stay, outrank a Lieutenant's. He disobeyed orders and attacked his guard." He had added being out of uniform and possible desertion until he heard the Lieutenant say Special Forces.

"He's not Military," said Garrison quietly.

"What do you mean, he's not Military? You said he was one of your men." The Colonel did not like games.

"He works for the Army but he is not technically enlisted."

"Technically," the Commander ground out, "what is he?"

"He was recruited for his talents, one of which is his skill at escaping custody." That was not the primary reason but it was in there.

The Colonel had to admit that peaked his interest. "Assault too?" Seeing the nod he added, "And the knives…?"

"Yes Sir." He wanted to add that the man was very proficient with knives but was afraid that would only add fuel to Chief's pyre.

Colonel Braden silently watched the young man before him. This was interesting. He knew a bit about Special Forces and the tactics they used. It was underhanded but if it saved lives… Was all this on the level? He decided he would watch and see.

"He's in the cellar," and he motioned to the trap door.

Chief panicked when he heard the footsteps approaching, heart pounding, he jumped to his feet, forgetting the low ceiling, and banged his already aching head. He crouched holding the top of his head and waited. He did not think Garrison would come down into the hole but he was afraid to stick his head up in case he got kicked. Not that Garrison would stoop to such a dirty move but still… The trap door was lifted.


	9. Chapter 9

**Part 6, Shot at Dawn**

**Chapter 9.**

"Get up here!"

Shit, thought Chief. Garrison was mad. He was a dead man. He wanted to stay where he was but knew that would only make it worse. Garrison would either slam the door on him leaving him there to what ever fate the Colonel's charges brought him, or Garrison would come down and haul him out. Either way he was dead. He moved shakily over to the steps, stiff and aching all over in spite of the pills he had taken a few hours earlier, and began the painful climb. Afraid to see the look on the man's face, he kept his head down. He made it to the top and stepped up onto the floor bracing himself for the first blow. Before him stood his worse nightmare. Chief was right. Garrison was angry, very angry.

Garrison watched as the man in question stepped up onto the floor. There weren't any apparent injuries, though he did not move like he usually did. His head was down and his shoulders sagged. Good, he thought, he knows he's in trouble and Garrison was going to add to it. This would not be tolerated.

"Outside." By turning sideways Chief was able to squeeze past and out into the yard. He did not know what to expect. There was no way he was going to get away with what he had done. Was he going to be yelled at or hit? He didn't want to be yelled at, he hated that. Just hit him, beat him, that was what he deserved. There was no way he was going to defend himself. His head was pounding, his vision blurry, he deserved anything Garrison dished out. After all he had done it was only justified that Garrison be the one to punish him, pathetic looser that he was. The only person who ever treated him decent and what does he do? He craps out, and lets him get shot.

"What happened?" he asked once they were outside.

Chief has agonized over this. How could he explain what he had done. There was no excuse. His leader's voice told him he was in control but close to the edge. One wrong word and all hell could break loose. Why didn't he just hit him and get it over with, hit him and then send him back to prison and walk away. Garrison doesn't need him, he can't count on him. He was the lowest of the low. Even in prison, he would be despised if they found out what he had done. It was he who needed Garrison but 'you stupid ass, you screwed up'. He had thought to say he didn't know but knew that would not be accept. He stood agonizing, waiting for the axe to fall.

Garrison did not know what to expect except maybe silence and that was what he got. That was not what he wanted. He wanted to know, now. He felt his anger rising and with it the pain in his head where the bullet had grazed him. Much more and he knew he would loose control. He did not like taking them but right now he needed to take one of the pills the doctor had given him. He debated but then the wind shifted and he smelled chicken manure. Chief had it all down the front of him. What the hell had he been doing? Last straw. "You're disgusting." With that he turned and walked away.

What was he supposed to do now? Was supposed to follow him or stay here? The wrong choice would be disastrous. He looked to the retreating back, the indecision tearing him apart. Then it was too late. He stood where he was. He was a coward. Garrison probably was testing him. Trying to see if he wanted to stay with the team. If he followed him, Garrison would have yelled at him, punished him but then would have kept him on the team. Instead he had chosen the cowards way, the easy way out, he had stayed where he was. He might as well go back to the hole he had climbed out of, dark and empty, just like his future.

He watched the lieutenant walk over to the mess tent that had been set up at the back of the house. Just before he entered he looked over his shoulder then entered. The door closed behind him.

Chief did not know what to do. Was he supposed to go back inside? He turned to look behind him at the door to the kitchen and saw the commander standing there watching. He waited for a heart beat then turned back facing the mess tent. He would wait.

Garrison had kept an open mind about this whole situation. It was possible he had been injured, that would explain the lack of cover fire. When word came of his whereabouts there was no mention of an injury. Seeing him standing there, apparently healthy but looking guilty as hell, that defence crumbled.

Finally the lieutenant returned. With each step Chief's heart began to beat faster and sweat production began in earnest.

"I'll only ask you this one more time. By now you should have come up with an answer. What happened?"

Garrison couldn't mean what he had done. They didn't know. They couldn't know or Casino would have said something. He had to be asking why he let him get shot. How was he to answer that either? He couldn't tell him that he was throwing his guts up cause he had a hangover. "I didn't mean to."

"You didn't mean to," he mimicked. "You of all people," he started, his voice dripping with scorn, "you were the last one I expected to do something this stupid. So what were you doing, daydreaming, watching squirrels?"

"No."

"You sure as hell weren't paying attention and that will get you killed."

Chief could sense that Garrison was getting madder but there was nothing he could think of to do but to keep his head down and hope. It seems that was not the right thing to do either because Garrison's hand shot out grabbing his chin yanking his head up so they were face to face. In his surprise he looked in Garrison's eyes then instantly lowered his eyes in fear. Garrison looked mad enough to kill.

"High Command wants your ass. I may be able to keep you out of prison but don't count on it." That was when the Lieutenant smelled the booze. He knew the guys drank so he is not totally shocked but it is one more brick in the cell wall. In disgust he shoved Chief away from him saying, "Bloody Drunk". He watched as Chief stumbled and fell then gritted his teeth and ground out, "Get in the jeep, NOW."

Chief got up and complied.

The trip back started out in silence, Garrison driving and Chief sitting as still and as small as he could. After a few miles Garrison pulled the jeep off the road and stopped. Here it comes, thought Chief. He couldn't beat him up there with the commander watching, he was going to do it now with no witnesses. Maybe he would beat him to death. Should he defend himself? He waited to see if he would be ordered out of the jeep but instead Garrison just turned to him and spoke.

"You are on probation. You step one inch out of line, you disobey one order, and everything I say to you is an order, one screw up and you're gone. You got that?" He glared at Chief who seeing the pressure nodded. "One other thing, you so much as touch a drop of alcohol and you'll be back in prison so fast, it'll make your head spin. You understand?" Again he nodded. His leader sat and glared at him for a full minute then started the jeep and pulled back onto the road. The trip continued.

Eventually they reached their base and he returned to the room the cons shared. Garrison remained cold towards him and the others picked up on the tension. No one spoke, at least not to him. They avoided him. In the past he wouldn't have cared in fact he preferred it. Don't let anyone in but now he did care. He did not want to be left out at least until he heard them discuss going out. That meant to the Doves for a drink. He licked his dry lips at that but knew that would be the kiss of death. With the way Garrison was mad at him now that threat to send him back could not be ignored. He kept his back to the others so no one would accidentally make eye contact with him. There was a moment of silence as they were about to leave and Chief knew they were debating asking him. He turned down the blanket of his cot and started to unbutton his shirt all the while keeping his back to them. They took the hint and with a clink of bars being moved aside they were gone.

He had gone this far he might as well go to bed. Maybe it was a good thing he was alone. The first hour was spent in deep sleep but then the nightmare began. It was one of many that he had had, filled with bloody bodies that refused to stay down. He kept trying to say he was sorry but the words would not come out. His pathetic cries woke him up and he lay still wondering if anyone heard him. There was no sound so he quietly crept out of bed and went to the bathroom to get a drink of water. Back in the room he knew if he tried to sleep that the nightmare would return so with the lights still off he went to the open window and sat. The night was filled with the sounds that comforted him, the crickets singing, a dog off in the distance or maybe it was a coyote. Except for the dampness in the air he could almost imagine he was back in New Mexico when life was good.

A mummer of voices warned him of their approach so he crept back into bed and closed his eyes feigning sleep as he listened to them strip and settled into bed. He was tired but afraid to sleep.

Actor had awakened when the door to their room had closed. Wondering, he rose as well and followed. His quarry was intent on his goal, not listening for a tail, because he led him right to the liquor cabinet. Moon light coming in the French doors provided enough light to identify the late night wanderer.

All the pieces fell into place. The sweating, the tremors, the paleness, that Chief had tried to cover with various excuses combined with this late night visit to the brandy decanter exposed the truth. Chief was an alcoholic, a drunk. Actor did not like drunks unless they were on the other side. They could not be trusted except to let you down. They were too easy to sway, their actions too inconsistent. He had seen what they would do for a drink. A drunk had no place on this team. He would tell Garrison and the man would be gone. It was for his and their good. He could get the help he needed and they would not have to rely on someone who was unreliable. He was about to turn away when a thought struck him. Garrison. Ever since he had brought Chief back from France after they had been separated, he had been really hard on the man. It was if he knew something …. Garrison knew but was biding his time or was he testing him? If he was giving him a chance then he knew more, a reason to give him a second chance. He waited and watched.

Chief was torn. It was right there, so close he could reach out and touch it, pour it, sip it. So close. No one would know, no one but him. His fists clenched in frustration and to stop the tremors. He wanted to ..to stop. He had promised Garrison, not out loud but in his mind he had sworn he would not touch another drop. He would have said it out loud but he was afraid his voice would shake or that Garrison would get angry at him even more for talking. He was doing everything he possibly could do not to anger the man. His very presence was enough to set the man on edge. He dared not ask a question or make a comment. Besides after what he had done, getting the man who had done so much for him injured, he didn't deserve any relief from his suffering. He deserved to burn in hell and he probably would.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10.**

"The hardest step not taken." The words slipped into a mind crowded with voices demanding to be heard. What made this voice different was not what it had but what it lacked. It lacked incrimination, it lacked guilt, it lacked accusation. It was a simple statement that stood out above all the other voices, not silencing them but standing over them, forcing them back. Chief turned his head slightly, willing to listen but unwilling to face the speaker or turn away from the object of his torment.

"Why?" There was a long pause then the voice continued. "I know this is recent. Something must have happened to trigger it."

'Oh God,' thought Chief as the images he had sought to bury came flooding back, the image of what he had done, his fallen leader, all the others he had killed.

"What was it?" Chief, fists clenched, took a deep breath, releasing it audibly but unsteadily. He shook his head. To say it out loud was to make it hurt more. Lock it away, bury it. "Obviously something very traumatic happened, something that hurt you very badly. What was it?" Chief shot him a brief tortured look before returning to the alcoholic's shrine. "What you are doing, locking it away is not working, is it? It is getting worse, not better. You must talk about it." Again Chief shook his head. "How bad can it be?" Actor asked lightly.

"I killed…" He had wanted to finish but his voice caught and his throat closed. He fought to keep from crying out in shame.

"Yes, we all have." Actor was unsure. Chief had been convicted of manslaughter. Apparently he had killed before they met and many times since so why the pain now? "In times of war, we have to do things that we have been taught are wrong."

Actor's apparent ignorance broke the ice. He turned away from the shrine towards what might be his execution or his salvation. He blundered in, letting the fates decide. He surrendered. "Have you ever hurt someone, someone who didn't deserve it, someone who was innocent and you killed her?" He sobbed.

"Yes, I have hurt people, and yes some of them were innocent." Chief's question turned confession had stunned Actor. He had killed a woman? When? He could not think of any time when a woman had been involved that Chief could have killed. Killing a woman would be enough to upset any man but especially this man. For all his hard exterior, the con man knew it was an act, an act that many used to protect their soft inner self.

Lowering his voice, he asked, "Who was she?" Seeing resistance he continued, "It was an accident, wasn't it?" Actor was shocked when Chief shook his head.

"I didn't look. I just fired, an she's dead." The last word came out as a whisper.

"But you were not aiming at her," he prompted.

"No," he whimpered. I didn't even know I did it. I didn't …"

"Then it was an accident. You did not mean to kill her."

"But if I had looked, I woulda seen her. I wouldn't a fired, an she'd be still alive."

"Why did you fire?"

"I shouldn't a. I killed her."

"Think back. Who were you firing at and why?"

Chief's hand came up to his forehead and he began to rub it as he tried to concentrate. "She was .."

"Who were you aiming at?" Actor reached out and placed his hand on Chief's shoulder. "Look down that barrel and see who you were pointing it at."

"I didn't .."

He increased the pressure on Chief's shoulder as he demanded, "Who were you trying to shoot?"

Chief's head shot up and around to face his inquisitor. His face had changed from torment to intensity. "A kraut. A soldier. He was gunna go in the house. I had to stop him. The Warden an …I was trying to stop him but .."

"You shot an enemy soldier, a man who was about to threaten the very life of your leader. You did what you were supposed to do."

"But,"

"No. If you had not fired then Garrison would be dead. You saved his life. The woman was an accident. Just as dead, but an accident. You should not blame yourself for an accident. You can strive to be more careful, you can regret your error but do not punish yourself for that action.

"But I didn't save his life." The intensity was gone and the depression was back.

Actor was still at a loss as to when this had happened and this last statement confused him even more. Garrison was alive, injured but alive.

Chief must have seen the lack of comprehension because he explained.

"That last firefight when the Warden got hit, he told me to cover him an I tried. I wasn't feelin' good an when I was throwin' up he got hit. I didn't save him."

"You were drinking then." It was not a question but Chief nodded.

"You need to stop drinking."

"I know. If I don't he'll send me back."

"You beat this and I will not say anything to him."

"Don't matter. He knows. He told me, one screw up an' I'm dead. I don't wanna go back but how can I live with what I did? I can't stop seeing her, everywhere I look, even in my dreams. The only time I have any peace is after I have a few drinks. It helps me forget."

"If you continue to drink, it could mean the loss of your life."

"I took hers and give mine. It balances out." His voice was bleak, resigned.

"You claim you took hers and now you plan on giving yours? You are not giving yours, you are taking it. That is not balance. That is you doing all the taking.

There is another thing you are not considering. Because we are a team, your death will jeopardize my life and Casino's and Goniff's life. What about Garrison's life? These are all lives you could save with your contribution to this team? That requires you being alive and sober."

"But I killed her," he replied in anguish.

"Will your death bring her back?"

"No. Nothing I can do will bring her back."

"What you can do is use your life to stop others from being killed. Defend the weak, the innocent, help us to help others, others who might die without help. This way her death will not be in vain."

Silence filled the room and Actor wondered if he had managed to plant a seed of hope or at least reconciliation. He was rewarded when Chief turned back toward the door and walked away. He stood waiting. On one hand he wanted to take the alcohol and put it out of sight but knew that was not the answer. He would do what he could. Eventually he too returned to his bed. He was unsure about letting the others in on the problem. He would talk to Chief tomorrow. The man was stubborn and secretive but he needed all the help he could get. At least Garrison was aware and willing to give him a chance but to which side was he leaning? Was he just waiting for an excuse or was he really hoping he would succeed? It had been a battle to get Chief to reveal what had triggered the drinking but this war was not over. The hardest part was yet to come.

It was late afternoon by the time Actor managed to get Chief alone. "Does the Warden know the reason you started drinking?" Chief shook his head. "You should have told us what happened."

He cringed. "I was afraid what you would say if you found out what I'd done."

"You need to trust us Chief. We are your friends, we understand. We all make mistakes. If we had known then we could have supported you, let you know that we do not blame you. We are there for you but we have to know what happened. You do not have to go through painful times alone.

Chief thought about it. "It's just so hard to .. Would you ever tell me if you were upset about something? Even something I couldn't fix? Would you tell me about it?"

Actor understood what was being asked. It was not a simple would you tell me but a request for mutual trust. How can I trust you if you will not trust me? Chief was right. The answer would have to be honest. "You are right. It is hard. I think it is especially hard for me because I am the eldest and as the eldest I am supposed to be the most mature, the wisest, the one with the experience to be able to handle anything." He smiled at the thought. "You are right. How can I expect you to ask for help or share a problem if I am not willing to do the same. I promise that if I have a problem I will share it with you."

Chief knew it was a lie but just hearing Actor, the most confident, together man he knew say it did make him feel better. Even Garrison showed when he was troubled, Actor, never.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11.**

Goniff and Casino were in their room. The safecracker looked thoughtful for a moment then said, "You notice something strange going on?" He rolled from his back onto his side and looked to their pickpocket.

"Like what?" answered Goniff as he looked up from polishing his shoe.

"Not sure." Casino got up off his cot where he had been lounging. "Warden seems real pissed off at Chief."

"Well he did manage to get himself left behind there. 'ad a few days of extra R&R by 'imself."

"That's another thing. Chief's usually real protective of the warden. First he doesn't cover him like he should of and then when he gets hit he cuts out."

"Maybe he felt guilty about …you know, lettin' 'im get 'urt."

"Could be but I think there's more to it. Even Actor's in on it."

"Actor's in on what? You don't even know if there's a what goin' on."

"No, there is something," he said as he swung his legs over the side of the cot and sat up, "and I intend on finding out what it is. See, Actor's keeping an eye on Chief. Last night Chief got up real quiet like. He'd been tossing and turning, nightmare I think, then he got up and went out the door. Less than a minute later Actor got up and left too. After about ten minutes or so Actor returns and then a few minutes later Chief comes in. And Chief, he's real jumpy especially when Garrison's around. Man, you'd think he was waiting for the Warden to bite his head off."

Casino stood took two steps before turning back to his team mate. Something's going on and I intend on finding out what."

"'ow. Not one of um's a big talker. Ask Actor and he'll con ya. Garrison 'll order you out and Chief, well blood from a stone and all that."

As if summoned Actor walked into the room. "Just the man I need to talk to," started Casino, "and don't try to bullshit me cause I want the truth."

"All right, you want the truth," said Actor with a straight face, "the answer is three pounds."

Casino stood there with his mouth open, completely taken aback. He suddenly looked very puzzled and angry and said "What? This is serious, Actor, we want to know before it gets one or all of us killed"

Actor had hoped it would not come to this but here it was and he was going to have to deal with it. Just to be sure, he asked, "What exactly are you referring to?"

"Don't bull shit me with your innocent act. You know damn well that something is going on between you, Chief and the Warden. And that something, unless it's fixed before our next mission, which I doubt very much, then I or all of us could end up dead. Now what is it?"

"You are right, Casino, but it is not up to me to tell you," started Actor.

"Bull shit it isn't," interrupted Casino.

"Casino," he warned, "everyone needs to be here for this. I will talk to Garrison.

Actor thought about how he felt. He had seen how troubled Ch was when he had stood in front of the bottle. He wanted but, did not want. If Chief was on the fence then there might be a chance to save him. Up until now Chief had been a good addition to the team. He had good characteristics. He was definitely loyal to the team but especially to Garrison. That was definitely a bonus. Was the man worth fighting for? Yes, but he had reservations. Alcoholism was a difficult thing to beat. Could Chief beat it? Was he strong enough? He thought so, if Garrison was on his side. In fact if they all were to support him then he could probably do it. How to make sure Garrison was on board? Or should he try to sway their leader? Maybe present the problem and let him decide. Actor had never been one to let the chips fall where they may. He looked at it from all sides, decided where he wanted it to go and made it happen. That was his way. He headed for Garrison's office.

"Lt Garrison." Actor's tone was neutral but the words held a special meaning. To his men he was the 'Warden'. He had embraced the name when they had hung it on him. In a prison the Warden was the man in charge, the one who controlled the whole prison and each life in it. That was his role now. Here, Actor had reverted to his formal title which meant this was serious. As career Army, it was nice to be recognized by his rank which he had earned but under the circumstances it's use could warn of serious trouble. He assumed immediately that Chief was at the bottom of it.

"Come in." He had been right. It was serious.

Twenty minutes later Actor re-entered their room. He was fairly confident that things would go his way. Their leader had been reluctant but had been persuaded that this was necessary to clear the air. Now if he could count on their usual 'us cons against everyone else, all should go well. He moved into the room and sat in the chair by his bed.

Garrison was the next to arrive. He was worried, and it came across as anger. On one hand he didn't want this meeting. He wanted Chief either to prove he had quit or preferably gone, no discussion. On the other hand, if they wanted to give him even more chances, he would have to overrule them but that could cause a problem with morale. As much as he did not want this, Actor had made a good case. They needed to know.

Chief followed four strides behind his leader. He was alternately terrified and resigned. This was worse than his last time in court. Most of the time the eyes then, were on the lawyers except for when the witnesses pointed him out. Then it was back to the judge and lawyers. He didn't even really have to be there. He knew he was guilty and so did the jury. His lawyer hadn't even really tried to defend him, there were too many witnesses. He knew his fate was behind bars. The only question was how long. This time it could be prison, or reprieve or something in between. Would he have to tell every one what had happened? What if he broke down when he had to tell? What would Casino say? How would they treat him when they knew? Damn he needed a drink!

"A few weeks ago, on one of our missions, something happened that upset Chief. It was an accident but he felt responsible." He saw the interested looks. He watched as Casino and Goniff reviewed past mission and tried to decide which one he was referring to. Garrison's face on the other had was set. Did he know already or did he not care? "As a consequence of this event he got drunk. Unfortunately he kept drinking." The faces of the two men began to mirror the face of their leader. "Chief knows he has to stop, even though it will be hard. He needs our understanding and our help."

Chief's heart was still pounding but he could breath a little better. Actor had put it so that it didn't sound so bad. They could understand getting drunk, hell, he had seen both of them in that state. He took a deep breath and released it.

Casino, his face set, stood abruptly. "A drunk! No way! I'm not working with a drunk. Lousy fuckin' boozer got my friend fried." He turned from Actor to Chief. "See the Warden over there. The man who hauled us all outta prison. You almost got him killed. If he'd died, so help me, I'da killed you myself. You don't deserve to be here. Go on, get drunk an' kill yourself." He turned back to Garrison and pointed to Chief. In a firm voice he said, "he goes," and then he indicated himself with his thumb, "or I go. I'll go back to prison before I work with a stinkin' booze hound." He stood glaring at Garrison and then Actor before turning his worst look on the offender.

Chief was devastated. He had thought Casino would understand. Chief had helped cover him when he had had too much to drink. Now his goose was cooked. Garrison would never take his side and get rid of Casino. Casino had a talent the team needed, a safe cracker was an absolute necessity. He on the other hand was not. He needn't even pack, he was a goner. His world got darker. Then the last nail in his coffin.

"I'm sorry Chief, but I gotta agree with Casino." He had remained seated but he looked miserable. "Ya can't trust someone who drinks. Me ol' man used to be an all right guy but as soon as he had a couple a pints he turned. He'd haul off and belt me for no reason, or he'd forget stuff. 'e once passed out at the wheel and we almost crashed. I couldn't trust 'im and I can't work with a bloke I can't trust. Sorry Chief."

'Trust. Couldn't trust 'im'. Chief had lived his whole life not being able to trust anyone. He knew how it felt and he couldn't blame anyone, especially Goniff. He knew the pickpocket acted the happy-go-lucky person but he saw the fear. In prison, being feared was good but here, no. Chief took a small breath and exhaled. If only he could just not breath any more. If he could just shrivel up and turn to dust. He knew he was dead, why couldn't his body know that too.

Actor looked to Chief. He had never played a lawyer in a court of law, just acted as an advisor to an elderly patron, but this was what this felt like. He would file an appeal with his clients permission. As soon as his eyes took in the sight, he knew what death looked like. Chief had been pale before but now he was white. Eyes that were always guarded, watchful, were now empty, stark, revealing everything. Actor felt that if he looked close enough he could probably see right into the young man's soul. It was not a look he wanted to ever see again. To hell with permission.

"Casino," he started, "have you ever hurt a woman?"

"What? What's that got to do with this?"

"Just answer the question. Have you ever …"

"I heard the question, and no, I would never hurt a woman."

"If you did, even accidentally, how would you feel?"

"I don't know. What's, what's that got to do with it?"

"Do you remember the incident at the launch site we rigged to explode?" A woman died."

"A woman? There was no woman that died, it was …." His eyes widened, his face slackened and his jaw sagged. Goosebumps crawled up his arms. He forgot how to breath. Time stopped. Then in a quiet voice the safecracker said, "Oh God, a child. You shot Cherise, her baby." His voice sank to a whisper. "You shot her in the head. Her beautiful little baby girl. You killed her!"


	12. Chapter 12

**Part 7, Shot To Pieces**

**Chapter 12.**

Chief now knew what it was like to be flayed alive as all eyes turned on him. His worst secret had been revealed, his every flaw dissected out and put on display. He had nothing left inside. The room wavered, the colours fading from deep rich wood panelling to prison grey cement. The ticking of the mantle clock became the sound of his blood dripping on the cold hard floor. He looked down at his wrists as he raised his hands and watched as his life's blood pulse from the slashes there. He watched in fascination as the blood flowed down his wrists, over the heel and pooled in the palm of his hand before running over the sides dripping to the floor. It would not take long, in fact he was getting weak and light-headed already. He tipped his hand over and watched the blood dripping, drip, drip, drip.

Actor, like the others in the room, was stunned. Chief had shot a child. He tried to put himself in Chief's shoes and couldn't. He might not have reacted the same way but he could certainly understand Chief's reaction. He might try to appear tough but they all knew the young man was not heartless.

Casino was in shock. The girl! The woman in the farm house had had a little girl about four or five years old with curly brown hair hanging in ringlets that framed her round little face, her big blue eyes full of excitement. He had held her hand, watched her climb out the window, seen her run, seen her fall, watched her body tumble and lay crumpled in the dirt. He had had to pull her Mother away from her body. He pictured himself as the shooter and his heart clenched and bled. They all liked to think of Chief as a killer but he wasn't really, not at heart. Man that had to hurt. No wonder he turned to alcohol.

Goniff had already been feeling bad about turning on Chief when he really needed a friend so when he pictured what had led to it he felt his eyes begin to water and his throat closed off. Oh Chief, poor Chief. He felt like such a cad.

Garrison was determined to remain firm. He would not tolerate a drunk on the team. He had no confidence that Chief could beat this. If he couldn't handle what they had to do and resorted to alcohol, then there was no place here for him. He would fail and he would be gone. End of story. Now to find out what had happened, what had caused it he knew the man was not at fault. Turning to alcohol was not the answer but understandable. He would have to live with the knowledge of what he had done. And they, his supposed friends would have to live with the knowledge they had turned on him in his time of need. Their only defence was they didn't know.

The final piece had fallen into place as they all thought back to that night in the barn remembering the sight and sound of her as she had sat wrists crossed over her chest, hands clenched, rocking back and forth, humming a lullaby. She had been cradling her dead child, her baby who had been killed right in front of her and she could not even stop to say good bye or even bury her. What was even more spooky was that she had not cried. Casino looked to where Chief sat. The Indian had been on watch so had not seen it. Good thing too. He probably would have killed himself.

If he hadn't been thinking along that line he might not have understood what he was seeing. As it was it took him a moment. Though he had never seen it first hand, he knew suicide happened in prison and that this was what he was watching. He had to do something, something to break the spell.

"Don't do it, babe. It's not too late. We just didn't know."

Actor frowned in confusion at the sudden change of tone and topic as was Goniff until Chief turned his wrist. He had seen an accident at the train yard where a man had lost his fingers. He had done the same, holding his hand out watching the blood pour out. He understood this was no accident.

"My God, Chief," said Goniff, "why didn't you say something?"

Slowly the condemned man turned his wrist again and brought it closer to his body shielding it with his other hand and lifted his eyes. "You would'a tried ta stop me. I didn't want you to know what I done." Tears sparkled in his eyes. "Child killers are … " his voice broke and he sobbed.

It was Casino who, in a whisper, finished the sentence, "… fair game." There were at least two in that room who had seen prison justice carried out. The others did not want to even imagine such a thing. For Chief it was even worse. He had been involved in one instance. At the time he thought he was justified.

The silence was finally broken by Garrison. "Chief, what I said about drinking still goes. I will not tolerate drunkenness. You beat this, get sober and stay that way and you will continue to have a place here. I just wish you had told us what happened. We could have helped. You didn't have to face this on your own.


	13. Chapter 13

Part 8, Upshot

Chapter 13.

This was Actor's favourite time of day, late evening. He sat back in his favourite chair. It was a French Club chair, not particularly attractive, it needed to be reupholstered, but it was comfortable. He took a sip of his coffee then leaned his head back resting it in the corner and though back on how his life had changed. From living a life of daring and cons, excitement and thrills, exquisite cuisine, the high life, he had gone to the opposite, the low life in prison, lousy food, lousy company surrounded by uneducated uninteresting barely surviving dregs of society.

When the war broke out he was interested because it could affect his ties to the country of his birth and where he had money stashed. There was nothing he could do but listen. The guards would discuss the current affairs, the latest news and their plans or just dreams of enlisting. Old habits die hard and Actor began the con of his life.

Then the Lieutenant had shown up. He was what Actor had expected from a military man. He was tall, lean, and driven. Because he was so focused it was hard to read him. He had come across as guarded, which could be overcome with time, hard assed, which was usually either a cover for nervousness or a permanent condition and lacking a sense of humour. Well a sense of humour was not a strict necessity but made the time more enjoyable. He was not entirely eager to buy what the man was selling especially since he was eight to ten days from being accidentally released. He had weighed his option. If he stayed he would probably be free in eight to ten days, free to go where ever he wanted. If he took the Lieutenant's offer he was guaranteed a release but would be under

someone else's control, at least until he could slip away. Both would see him on the run but that was part of the thrill, the chase, pitting himself against the world, the authorities. That was a game he played very well. In the end he had taken the offer. He was back in the game, a game filled with daring and cons, excitement and thrills, only this times the stakes were higher. He loved a challenge. He wasn't sure just when he realized that he was not going to slip away. He was no patriot, fighting for his country. He was a man who was enjoying himself pitting his wits against all, against the man they had named 'the Warden', against the brass he worked for and the enemy.

Life had been good. There were times of great stress, pain, both physical and emotional, and heartache but over all he was glad he had taken the offer and stayed.

Actor looked around him at the comfortable room. At first this part of their base, a recently vacated summer home outside of London, had been off limits but residing with a pickpocket and an expert at locks had it's advantages. Garrison had surrendered to the inevitable and he relaxed the rules. A combination salon and library, two of the walls were bookshelves, filled with an excellent selection of classics and modern literature. The French doors had been closed earlier keeping out the September chill. The days were still mild but the evenings were cool and damp. The sun had set taking with it the natural light that daily flooded this south facing room . Later he would turn on the light but for now he waited, enjoying the gathering dusk. The only other light came from the fireplace where a cosy blaze radiated warmth, in light and temperature. The flames that licked the aged wood cast a warm light on the normally cold grey marble mantle while throwing the painting hung above into shadow. That was good for this time of night. This was a time of peace and tranquility, completely at odds with the drama captured in the framed oil painting. The fires glow also tinged the slate on the floor in front with a lightness that suggested living stone instead of dead. It had been a friend who had pointed out that stone was dead in the dark but came alive in sun light. Firelight did the same thing only better.

A sound from upstairs told him his solitude was about to be invaded. A light tread on the steps told Actor it was one of two men. By habit he knew it was the one who had started out as his boss, his jailer, his enemy, to be conned and outwitted but instead had turned into to his most trusted friend. It amused him how this had happened. In his business he had trusted no one. Everyone was out for their own. Every one had an ulterior motive, even he did, to protect himself. Yes, the approaching man had one too, but for the most part he was up front with it. There were no games to be played. The new arrival always laid his cards on the table and together they worked out the con. Actor had waited and watched for the double cross but it never came. Eventually he realized there was none. The man trusted him and in return earned his trust as well. The two men were comfortable working together. Now as the man moved into the darkening room Actor watched him. He had once worked with a choreographer for the

French National Ballet. If Adrien could have see this man move he would have been impressed. He was tall, slim, broad shouldered. Someone had likened him to a stallion, power, grace and very attractive to the ladies. If he didn't hold himself aloof he would have the ladies flocking to his side. Sometimes it irked him, when he saw the looks the man got when they were out. Once he turned on his own charm though, the other man did not stand a chance.

Mind you he had seen the blonde use his charm and he had been good. Fortunately he did not use it often, he preferred to be un-noticed. Lucky for him. Maybe when the war and all the aftermath was really over, with a little help from the master, then he would see the man fulfill his destiny.

Who was he kidding? The time for cons was over. The man would never be tempted to live that life. He did it for the war effort and as much as the two had enjoyed pulling a good one, they both knew that when the fighting ended so would the cons. The rooms newest addition would return to a life of legal activities. Actor sighed. Such a shame, they made a great duo.

As he watched, the new arrival moved to the sideboard, poured a cup from the pot and moved to his usual chair to the left of Actor. It had amused him when he realized he was still the bosses right hand man.

Lieutenant Craig Garrison, a.k.a. Warden, settled back in his chair and took a sip of his coffee. Paperwork was done, no mission to plan for, tonight he could just relax. After all that had gone on, and gone wrong, in the last month he needed the down time. When it came to trouble, his bunch either took delight in creating it or seemed to draw it like a magnet. The worst of it was he never knew which was the case.

Next to arrive was the least likely of the group, the antithesis of the previous entrant. Oh, he had the same grace of a dancer but his movements were quicker, his eyes never remained still, he had been dubbed the coyote, the trickster, one who could dart in and steal the food from your hand and be gone before you knew it. He was fast and light and like the coyote of legend, loved a good laugh. Actor agreed, he had been rightly named.

Actor always assessed the people he worked with and upon meeting this particular man he was listed a useful but not necessarily important. It did not take long for him to realize how wrong he was. There were times when an elaborate con got the results you wanted but having a fall back, or in some cases, best attack was the straight forward, or should he say, divert and snatch. Besides the man's inevitable good humour had saved them from the depression that came with the territory that they had been working. He was annoying at times but Actor would not want to be without the man.

Goniff, too, poured a cup of coffee and took it with him to his place on the sofa to the right, next to the fire. Actor put it down to his lean frame but the man preferred to not be hungry or cold. He smiled as he nodded to Actor. All was well in Goniff's world.

A fast heavier tread on the steps announced the next arrival. Casino strode into the room. By now the light was fading. Casino poured his coffee then strolled over to stand looking out the French doors. All eyes turned to him. They could tell by his silhouette that he was dressed for a night out. That was nothing new, he was popular with the ladies. In his own way he knew how to impress them even if it wasn't quite the same way Actor did but the ladies seemed to like it. Actor had seen him work his charms. His was a sense of strength and danger, an ability to protect whoever he was with, the ability to charm, especially when he purred in Italian, gutter talk filled with slang, but still they liked the sound. Fortunately Actor and Casino went for different types or they could have had fights over the ladies. Must be their hot blooded ancestors. Both Italians and Spaniards were renown for their prowess with the ladies. Casino, a contrast of impatience with Garrison and anyone who didn't see his way yet he could sit in front of a safe and gently tease the combination into place and have it divulge its secrets in no time. He had to have had patience to learn that skill. Other than he

was taught by the best he had never revealed more.

Casino had been dubbed the wolf. He was fast, cunning and could be aggressive when provoked but was very protective of his family or his pack. These traits had served them all well.

Casino moved over to the fire and stood propping one elbow on the mantle the other hand held his cup which he raised in salute before taking a drink. They nodded in acknowledgement and followed suit.

Minutes later a figure emerged out of the shadows and sat on the couch to the left of the fire He was the panther, silent and elusive. As usual they had not heard him on the steps. In his hand he held a cup of coffee but when he raised it to his lips his face froze for an instant before he stopped, got up and moved to the sideboard. The others heard the sound of the cupboard door being opened and bottles moved .

"Chief?" A simple word with just a hint of questioning. Garrison was not about to spoil the mood.

"No." There was no denial or anger just a statement, one they all accepted. First was the brandy snifter being filled and placed on the tray. Next there were two glasses of Scotch whiskey and one glass of Sherry. Chief picked up the tray and moved into the circle of his friends. Stopping before Actor, he handed him the Brandy. Next he moved toward the first man he had willingly followed and gave him the Whiskey before moving to his friends by the fire and handing one his Sherry then on to the safe cracker who was handed the last glass of whiskey. He returned the tray to the sideboard and moved to his seat with his coffee. No one had moved so he raised his cup in salute and waited as he others followed suit.

**Epilogue **

"I really blew it this time, didn't I?" Chief was sitting on the top step of the terrace. He had obviously heard Garrison coming.

"How long's it been since you had a drink?" The Lieutenant sat down beside the troubled man.

"Six days."

"Still sober, your place on the team is still yours."

Chief shook his head indicating that was not what he meant, "All I ever wanted was to be part of something, to belong, now I never will."

"You're still part of this team."

He stood and stepped down two steps before half turning, still looking out over the courtyard. "I'll never belong. I'll always be on the outside," he said then added sardonically, "always the alcoholic Redskin." He turned back to look his leader in the eye, daring him to deny it. He turned away and descended another step. His mind made up he turned to face the man who had set the rules. Standing tall he said, "I'd like to try having a drink. I want to prove to myself that I can control it, that I can have a drink and stop." It was not a plea but statement.

"Do you think that wise?"

"I've thought a lot about it. What if we're on a mission and we all have to make a toast, to Hitler, or somebody. It's gonna take some explaining if I refuse. If I try it now, here, where you can see if I'm OK, then you won't have to worry. It'll just be this one time." He paused before adding quietly, "I gotta know."

"All right, but just this once." Hazel grey eyes met and held dark brown eyes. The challenge was issued and met.

"Thanks, Lieutenant, for everything, for giving me a chance, for standin' by me. I won't let you down again." It was a solemn oath that Garrison knew the man would do his utmost to uphold.


End file.
